


Like Real People Do

by sysrae



Series: Good Call [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Artist Castiel, Benny is an awesome therapist, Castiel has feelings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Suicide Attempt, Shrink Benny, Student Dean, Therapy, WHAT AM I DOING SOMEONE HELP ME, past Castiel/Inias - Freeform, sort of, what is this fic even, where did this series come from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysrae/pseuds/sysrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I didn't want to die,' Cas says. 'I just had a moment.'<br/>Benny raises an eyebrow. 'A moment?'<br/>'Yes.'<br/>'You keep using that word, moment,' Benny says. 'I don't think –'<br/>'So help me, if you Princess Bride this conversation, I'm finding another therapist.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Real People Do

'I didn't want to die,' Cas says. 'I just had a moment.'

Benny raises an eyebrow. 'A moment?'

'Yes.'

'You keep using that word, _moment_ ,' Benny says. 'I don't think –'

'So help me, if you _Princess Bride_ this conversation, I'm finding another therapist.'

Benny laughs, deep and genuine, which is why that's an idle threat on Cas's part. Gabriel took him to two other shrinks before they ever set foot in the office of Dr Benny Lafitte, who somehow manages the trick of being simultaneously relaxed and guarded, a peculiar combination that makes Cas feel both calm enough to want to speak and safe enough to do so.

'I was going to say, I don't think _moment_ is accurate.' Benny leans back in his chair, hands linked around the curve of his knee. 'You'd ended the call with Inias long before you reached the Art Centre. Your office is on the second floor, but you didn't go anywhere near it. You went straight to the roof, which meant using stairs as well as the elevator, and you were up there a good few minutes before you ever attempted to call your brother.'

Castiel clenches his fists on his thighs, shame burning in his throat, and looks away.

Benny sighs, and says, gently, 'I don't think you wanted to die, Castiel. But the feelings and choices that made you consider suicide weren't momentary, no matter how brief the window was when you felt capable of attempting it, and every time you pretend otherwise, it's a distancing tactic. So.' He smiles again, wry and disarming. 'How's about you give that explanation another shot, hm?'

Cas swallows, fighting the urge to get up and leave. He's silent for almost a full minute, but Benny waits him out with the patience of a spider.

Finally, softly, Castiel speaks.

'I've always known my parents would react badly to who I am. I grew up with their homophobia; I've tried arguing with them over the years, but it's never worked, and ever since I started to live on my own, ever since I started to have relationships, I knew I'd eventually have to choose between myself and them.' He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look up. 'What set me off... it wasn't their revulsion. On some level, I've always been braced for it. And even though I'd thought – I'd hoped – my mother, at least, might soften her opinions for my sake, learning otherwise... it hurt, yes, but that wasn't the problem. It was having it happen all on their terms, having the option of telling them taken away from me.'

'The shock of being outed unexpectedly,' says Benny, 'rather than the shock of their reaction.'

' _Yes_ ,' says Castiel, and with that admission, something in him cracks. 'I still have things at the house, and I can't... I thought I'd have more time, I thought I'd be able to clean it out, and most of it's probably junk, but there's books there, journals, old artworks – toys, even, as foolish as that sounds –'

'It's not foolish at all.'

'It's just, it's sentimental.' Castiel gulps. 'And when my mother rang, when she said I couldn't come back to the house, I just, I had this image – it's not like she made any threats, but when my eldest brother rebelled and left home, I have this vivid memory of her burning the clothes he left behind, and I couldn't, I still can't get it out of my head that she's done the same to my things, that they're all ash, now. And when I rang Inias, I just...' He falters, struggling to find the words.

This time, Benny seems to sense his need for rescue. 'How long were the two of you together?'

'Six months, give or take.' Cas runs a shaky hand through his hair. 'I ended things five weeks ago.'

'Can I ask why?'

'I didn't love him,' Cas says, looking at Benny again. 'He loved me, and I didn't love him, and I didn't think it was fair to stay when I couldn't give him what he wanted.'

Benny cocks his head. 'That's a strange way to put it. Why not say, you left because he wasn't fulfilling your needs? Why end it for his sake, but not your own?'

Castiel opens his mouth. Closes it again. Eventually, he says, 'I've not... historically, I've not been very good at saying no to people. I don't like causing pain. Inias told me he loved me after our first month together; I told him I didn't feel the same, and he said it was all right, that he was willing to wait for me. And it never –' he shakes his head, frustrated, '– I waited, I kept waiting to feel something more than polite affection, but it never came, and he never seemed to mind. Or, well, that's not true; obviously he did mind, inasmuch as he wanted me to love him back. But he was patient, he didn't... he never pushed about it, and I wasn't unhappy, per se, I just... I wanted something more, and he was so nice to me, it didn't seem fair to leave when I couldn't even articulate what he wasn't doing that I apparently wanted –'

'Castiel,' Benny says. His eyes are warm, despite their light blue shade; combined with his scruff and what Gabriel tactfully described as his “cuddly musculature”, it makes him look like a formidable teddy bear. He leans forward slightly, shifting to brace his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his laced knuckles. 'You're allowed to want things for yourself. You're not obliged to stay in an emotionally unsatisfying relationship just because your partner is nice to you, and especially if that's _all_ they are. Niceness is the lowest possible bar for human decency; that doesn't make it something to write home about. You're worth more than just _nice_.'

Cas flushes, obscurely embarrassed. Benny lets him sit for a moment, and then, when he seems to realise that Cas has nothing to say to that, he prompts him again.

'What happened when you called Inias?'

'I yelled at him,' Cas says, arms wrapping his torso. 'Even before I told him what was wrong, my voice was shaking, I was so... I didn't even sound like myself. I've never been that angry before. Christ, I wasn't even that angry at my _parents_ – or I was, I mean, I _was_ angry, I just didn't yell at them.' He pauses, stricken, staring at Benny. 'Why didn't I yell at them instead?'

'If I had to guess,' says Benny, 'it's because you knew it wouldn't do any good. Even though you were on the back foot, you'd already resigned yourself to their reaction. But intentionally or not, Inias was the one responsible for outing you, and he was able to understand your distress.' Benny hesitates, then adds, 'You stayed with him for half a year despite wanting to leave, and when you finally broke it off, the parting was amicable enough that he still felt the relationship was salvageable. Which is why he wrote you the letter in the first place.' And he raises a pointed eyebrow.

Castiel lets the implication sink in. 'You think I yelled at him because I was angry I hadn't yelled at him sooner. Because if I had done, he wouldn't have tried to win me back, and I wouldn't have been outed.'

'Something like that,' says Benny. 'You catch on quick.'

'Not quick enough,' Cas mutters, but there's no heat in it.

'If you were any faster, I'd be out of a job.' He glances at the clock. 'We've got some time left, and there's one more thing I'd like to discuss, if that's all right.'

'Of course.'

'The man who talked you down from the roof, the brother of your brother's friend –'

'Dean,' says Cas. 'His name is Dean.'

'Dean,' says Benny, nodding. 'How do you feel about him?'

Something warm and complex roils through Cas's stomach. 'He's... I've never met anyone like him before. He's always worked as a mechanic, so he started out in Engineering, but ended up switching over to English. He bought one of my paintings, even though he didn't have to. He makes me laugh.' He blushes, realising how that sounds, and quickly corrects, 'Made me laugh, I mean, on the phone, on the roof. I could barely breathe up there, but he made me laugh. This total stranger, and he stayed on the line for me, bought me lunch –' He jerks his head up, suddenly remembering something, bitter laughter twisting his mouth. 'You're right, you know, about Inias being only nice. He thinks he's a romantic, and perhaps that's true, but it wasn't what I wanted, what I needed; or at least, not his version of it. Six months together, and he never really got to know me. I think he liked the idea of being with an artist more than he liked my work, or me, even; he could never tell my sunrises apart. But Dean described one over the phone, from memory – it wasn't even his painting, it was in his brother's house – and I knew exactly which one he meant. He made it sound... god, he made it sound so beautiful, I'm half afraid to see it again. I don't think it could ever match up.'

'You're seeing Dean again?'

'Yes, but not – not like that, not _seeing him_ , seeing him. Just hanging out. We're, ah. We're actually meeting for coffee later this afternoon.' He swallows, picking at the hem of his shirt. 'He knew I was coming here today. Said he wanted to make sure I was okay, you know. That our session went well. That's all.'

Benny frowns. 'You make it sound like he's only discharging a duty of care; that he's not actually interested in seeing _you_.'

'Why would he be?' Cas asks. He tries to keep his voice light, but a pang goes through him all the same.

'Why wouldn't he be?' Benny counters. 'Does he act like he doesn't enjoy your company?'

'No, but –'

'Have you seen him again since the day you met?'

'Twice, but –'

'Do you talk to him by text, email, Facebook, anything like that?'

'Yes, but –'

'Do you discuss things other than your mental health?'

'Of course, but –'

'You said he was bisexual?'

'Yes, but –'

'And that his father also struggled to accept his sexual identity?'

'Yes, but that's not –'

'Is he single?'

'Yes, b–' Cas breaks off, staring open-mouthed at Benny. 'Are you trying to pimp me out?'

Benny laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges. 'Hardly. I'd have to have met the man to do that. But like I said, Castiel, you deserve a lot better than merely _nice_ , and the way you're describing him to me, I think this Dean guy qualifies. And,' he adds, getting in ahead of Cas's objections, 'it certainly doesn't sound as though he thinks you're an obligation.'

Cas stares at Benny. 'We met because he talked me down from killing myself,' he says, flatly. 'As first impressions go, I'm pretty sure that's guaranteed to nix the romantic potential.'

'Ordinarily, I might agree,' says Benny. 'But you're forgetting, that wasn't his first impression of you.'

Castiel blinks. 'I'm sorry?'

'That wasn't his first impression,' Benny repeats – slowly, like he's waiting for Cas to get it on his own. When he remains miffed, Benny huffs and says, 'The painting. He recognised your name from the painting, which you've just told me he described to you, unprompted, from memory, and with considerable affection. Now, granted, an artist's personality and their work are two different things, but they're still connected to each other, and in this instance, Dean knew other things about you, too – the fact that your brother and his are friends, the fact that you attend the same school. Little details, perhaps, but they matter here. You created something of great personal importance to Dean, but that didn't lead him to idolise you, because he also thought of you as a person. Has he made you uncomfortable at all? Given the impression that he's only sticking around because he likes your art?'

'No,' says Cas. 'He's been... wonderful, actually. He doesn't tiptoe around me, but he's still considerate. He remembers how I take my coffee and what kind of tea I like, and yes, we talk about painting, but it's not... he doesn't romanticise it, like Inias did, as though there's something poetic about toiling in obscurity. He's always had to work hard, he knows what it's like to struggle to do what you love, but he genuinely seems to enjoy the things I paint.' He looks at Benny, cautious hope like a lump in his throat. 'I like him a lot,' he admits. 'And that terrifies me, because this, right now –' he laughs, sharp and raw, gesturing at himself, '– this is the rockiest I've ever been. My parents have disowned me, I'm struggling to make rent, let alone afford my tuition, and my brother's paying for my therapy – which is, by the way, the literal embodiment of irony, because we always joked he'd be the one to put me here. I'm a mess.'

Benny smiles. 'I've seen messier,' he says. 'Which isn't to diminish what you're going through, Castiel, and I'm not saying you should rush into anything you're not ready for. But you ought to respect yourself enough to trust that you're more to Dean than an obligation, even if all he wants from you is friendship. You understand me?'

Dumbly, Castiel nods, and Benny grins, leaning back in his chair with the air of a satisfied cat.

'Well, good,' he says. 'Now, go enjoy your coffee date. You can tell me all about it next time.'

Cas leaves in a daze, but the pleasant kind, like he's just stepped out of a hot bath. He hadn't wanted to see anyone about what happened, insisting that he was fine, that it was a _momentary_ lapse, that Gabriel had better things to spend his money on than a therapist. But his brother, ordinarily so quick with a joke, had stood his ground and insisted right back that _no, Cassie, you're clearly_ not _fine, and I won't have it on my conscience._ So Castiel had caved, because he always does, and he'd been prepared to try for Gabriel's sake, yet ultimately unprepared for it to have any positive effect. After all, he was meant to be fine: the moment had passed, and he wasn't going to try again, no matter what his brother thought.

But now, he feels somehow lighter, as though – as cliché as it sounds – he's shed some invisible weight. The feeling of buoyancy carries him all the way to the coffee shop, and when he steps in the door, he smiles as wide as he has in weeks to see that Dean's already there. He's reading a book, completely absorbed, but as Cas approaches, he looks up, blinks and grins, marking his page with an old receipt as he slides the battered paperback into his leather-and-safety-pins satchel. It's a brief but necessary break in eye contact, because Dean, in addition to being kind and funny and fascinating, is also quite stupidly beautiful, with his green eyes and his cheekbones and his penchant for wearing too-big, faded t-shirts.

'Hey, Cas,' he says, smiling.

Cas smiles back and sits down opposite, happiness thrumming through him like music. Like Benny said, he doesn't have to rush, but perhaps he still deserves to try.

'Hello, Dean.'

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been blown away by the response to Call Me, Save Me, so have a sequel! (Seriously, how are people finding that fic? WHERE ARE YOU ALL COMING FROM?) This entire series wasn't meant to happen but my brain is a goddamn traitor and yes, there's going to be more at some point, just don't quote me as to when. 
> 
> Title stolen from Hozier's song, Like Real People Do, which was my soundtrack while writing this, along with Newton Falkner's version of Teardrop.


End file.
